The red-eyed man
by gemini in tauro
Summary: [AU] This man whose eyes were green. This man whose eyes were red. This man who lied, and made fun of anyone should they dare him. He was to save Oswald Baskerville, and perhaps the world in the process. He, who didn't believe in fairy-tales, and yet he was one.


**Before you read:** Some facts of this story are based in "Sinister Cabaret", created by incredible Hitsugi Zirkus. Once I said this, if anything truly looks like taken from her, I swear I am really sorry. It wasn't my intention. I don't know how long this story will be, but I aspire to write something longer than five or six chapters. There are some factors of the manga that will remain, but for the most part this story will be an Altern Universe (even if sometimes it doesn't look like it). And yes, this will be… adult, kinda.

And finally, you know my English is kind of sloppy. If some phrase aren't coherent, I beg your pardon. I will try to fix it. Hopefully.

If she accepts this, the story is dedicated to Annabeth-Cyone (because I know they aren't precisely your number 1 ship), my first friend in the Pandora Hearts fandom, and with whom I haven't spoken in aaaaaaages. Know I still love you darling. -heart-

 **T** he **r** ed-eyed **M** an.

Eins: Stop his beating heart.

.

Jack didn't believe in fairy tales.

He was nineteen, however, when his life became something akin to one.

It was the middle of summer. Townspeople were all cheerful because the rain season was about to begin. Jack wasn't particularly fond of it, but if it meant that food was growing, then he was nobody to complain―now, was he?

Jack hated walking in the daylight. There was something about the people in the daylight that made them… meaner. He preferred seeing them in their most bestial way. In the middle of the night, in the early hours of the morning. Where he could see their true colours, the beast inside them.

The demons they hide.

If he walked in the sun-bathed avenue, people would stare at him, judge him. _That's Jack_ , they would say. _He's just a whore, like his mother was_ , and so on. It's not like he cared about the comments, but rather, the feeling of being watched. It was― _is_ unnerving.

That's why he preferred the night. In the midst of the shadows, he was allowed to make judgement of whomever he wished. In the shadows he decided who he wanted to talk to and who he wanted to mock. He could as well be the king of all them, had he wished to be, but just in the shadows.

In the night he was also able to be relied on with the darkest secrets. It is incredible how much a person's tongue can be untied after a simple blowjob. He would always smirk, pretend he was interested in the person in question, and listen.

That's what society said he was… well, might as well go with the complete charade, huh?

"Say… do you have any secret?"

That was a common question. He would stop whatever ministrations he was doing and reconsider his answer. He would pass mindlessly his finger over some sensitive area, leaving a trail of feather-like sensations. His companion would resist a moan, and Jack would show them who truly had the control in that room. He would… deviate his eyes to a certain place in the room, and widen his smirk.

"Why don't you ask your mother? She might know more than I."

The answer he would receive would have variants. Either his companion would gasp, would stare at him, would open bigger their eyes… or beat the crap out of him. Just like this one had done.

"Why dare you talk about the dead like that?!"

Yes, indeed hilarious.

His question didn't always end up referring someone's mother, per see. It was someone close to the person that had recently gone.

"How would I know she was dead? It was just a joke."

It was even funnier seeing the confusing look they would give him. Like they wanted to prove he actually had foreknowledge, but just weren't able to prove he had some kind of power. He would apologise with another round, and as soon as they were finished, his companion was too exhausted to remember they were even mad at him.

Afterwards he would go back to his house, he would bathe, eat a little and sleep.

Every morning he would be awaken with the ruffling sound of someone entering his chamber, and trying to untie his braid.

"How many times have I told you _don't touch it_?"

The light-hearted laugh of Arthur Barma would resonate.

"Funny how you don't let me, who is a friend of yours, and let everyone, who you don't even know, do it."

Jack would laugh at that, straighten in his own bed and let his hair being handled by the lord.

"Say, I heard you scared someone yesterday. Is it true?"

Jack merely shrugged, feeling the brush against his silk-like hair. "They scare easily with a single joke, I just don't understand it."

"Heard he even called you witch."

"Can he prove it?" Arthur didn't try to retaliate his point, even if he looked unsure that Jack's security over the matter was the right answer. After he was finished with Jack's hair (like every morning), he sighed and left the brush aside.

"All I am saying is that you might want to be more careful. Last time they said someone was a witch and they prove it, the case was taken by the Baskervilles. You know how that ends."

Jack did as though he didn't listen to his advice. He winked at him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks again for braiding my hair, but I am afraid I cannot follow you. We both know they won't be able to prove I am one. For you see, both my eyes are green. And guess what colour have the witches their eyes?"

They both knew what he meant by that. He wasn't afraid of being proven of magic, but it still was true that, against light, both his eyes were of an emerald green colour.

"When you go make sure to leave the key to its hiding place." He went to his closet and hurried to another room to change himself―there was something with male nudity that still scared the hell out of Arthur, and he was considerate with his friends―being careful with the knots and the buttons.

After all his preparations he was in the street, walking among the townsfolk and the kids. He had still a few hours left before the sunlight was gone (it was something between four and five), but he told himself he'd rather be in a known place (in a known place in which there was no judging eyes, that is).

He made himself comfortable in front of the bar, in which there was Gilbert cleaning a few cups.

"Good evening for you, Gilbert." He said as soon as he sat. The raven haired looked at him a few seconds before smiling him back.

"What a wonderful surprise to see you this early, Jack. What… brings you at this hour of the day?

Jack shrugged as he made himself comfortable. Whilst waiting his answer, Gilbert put in front of him a glass of water, from which he took a sip before answering.

"Nothing in particular. Arthur awoke me a tad bit earlier than usual, and since I have nothing else to do today I decided to come earlier. Might as well thank you for getting drunk that client. He was truly an idiot without alcohol in his system."

Gilbert laughed a little. It amazed Jack, how he was unfazed by the way he talked, about his clients and about his own lifestyle. It could perhaps be how Jack kept his secrets, just as he kept Jack's that neither were afraid nor disgusted of each other. There was just years of mutual trust that kept them tied together.

"It was truly nothing. He asked for whiskey, I gave him whiskey."

"Who was he anyway? His face seemed familiar."

Gilbert shrugged, and continued cleaning the bar before the clients started coming. Jack decided he couldn't let him do the job all alone and went besides him to provide some help.

"Have you received news from Vincent yet?" he asked eventually. Gilbert seemed to tense at the single mention of his twin, but shook his head, nonetheless.

"Just hope he is unharmed. I… it feels weird."

None of them discussed the matter afterwards. Jack wished for the same Gilbert wished.

 _I thought I had lost you, here you are!_

Later that night, Jack would look at his own reflection. It wouldn't smile at him―it's not like he smiled back to it. And even if he was bathed by the moonlight and by the candlelight, his eyes were of that red colour he tried for longer than he knew to loathe.

 _Where were you hiding, huh? I thought we were friends!_

He exited the club at the eerie hours of the morning. His jacket was barely enough to protect him from the cold breeze, but he wasn't precisely bothered by it. He walked until he reached his house, it wasn't, honestly, that far away from the club.

When he reached his door, he stared at a white-haired stranger staring at him.

"Good mornin'." This particular character greeted him in a cheerful voice. "I presume you're Jack Vessalius?"

"Just Jack" he answered back, not even returning the greeting. "Look, if you're here for sex let me at least take a bath. For you should know, I am not precisely clean." He raised one of his hands, as he tried to reach for the door knob. A hand full of bandages, however, stopped him.

"I'm sorry if my impromptu visit gave you that impression. I would like to talk to you for a moment. Would you mind? I just came from a very long travel, and I feel rather exhausted. Can you come with me? I swear, if you don't like me you can scape whenever you want, I will not chase after you."

This man was a master of lies, but Jack was one as well. He knew he was lying, he knew that there was no option left but to follow him. He could see the message underneath his words. 'I've something you are dying to see, come.' It was all pretty obvious to Jack, who made that same glitter appear in his eyes every now and then.

And yet…

He looked at his own hands. He then looked at the house behind this character, the one he was supposed to enter. He then looked at the man, who looked like a child awaiting for their precious candy. He smiled, just as wickedly as this man. He had made his own mind.

"Just let me do some minor preparations before I leave my house, if you'll excuse me."

He was given permission to enter. As soon as he went to his own dormitory, he scribbled a note for Arthur.

" _I went to run an errand. I honestly don't know how long it'll take. Please tell Gilbert not to worry about me, and please, please, I beg you, take care of my house in my absence. You both are the only to know about this, if anybody else asks, tell them I ran away or something. I think you'll manage._

 _Love,_

 _Jack."_

After he was finished and he felt satisfied, he folded the little note and addressed as _to Arthur Barma_ before picking his favourite pocket watch and his gloves.

"I'm ready."

The same man was now in front of a cab. He smiled just as he saw Jack and shook his head.

"If you'll come with me. That would be fantastic."

They both entered the cab, one in front of the other. This man smiled at him, a childish smile, but somehow still feigned.

"I am truly sorry I didn't let you bathe, I promise you that it will be the first thing you do just as we arrive to our destiny."

Jack simply nod to his head.

"Where are we heading?"

This man just stared at him, like the mere questioning was offensive, his smile never leaving his lips.

"I thought mystery was the most charming thing in the whole world. Should we wait until he are there, will we not?"

No, of course we won't, were the words Jack couldn't answer back. His eyes seemed to give away his thoughts, because the man in front of him let out a laugh.

"So the rumours I've heard are true. You have the most beautiful ruby eyes to ever be on a man's face."

This statement wasn't powerful enough to leave a mark on Jack, however he frowned slightly. His eyes becoming green at the mere touch of the moonlight.

"And it seems you know that, too."

It wasn't inquired as a question, Jack knew that much. His smile, just as this man's, didn't falter.

"I prefer, however, modesty above saying around my eyes are the fairest of them all."

There is, too, no way to prove they are red. Just like he told Arthur every time he was worried he might be uncovered, just like he told himself every time he did mischief to someone particularly troublesome.

"Interesting indeed, _Just_ Jack. And please tell me, why do you hide them behind such emerald colour?"

Jack took his braid and ran his fingers mindlessly through the whole length. His smile faltered a little, but never disappeared.

"I never said I tried to hide them. They do it for themselves. Only people like you are capable of seeing the true colour that lies behind them even though we still have light, albeit from the moon."

This character wasn't fazed.

"People like me?" he asked carefully.

"Yes, people like you. Baskervilles."

There was a moment of silence in which neither of them spoke. Jack was way too much occupied with straightening his braid and this person was as much as occupied with whatever thoughts plagued his mind.

"So you know who I am." It wasn't a question this time. Jack pretended he had practiced his answer, as he told himself his own hair was ten times more important than the conversation.

"Why, of course. Who else would keep on haunting the red-eyed folks? The 'witches', as people say?" When there was no answer from this man, he decided to avert his gaze to the window.

"And you know what I want from you, don't you?"

Jack couldn't help his sarcastic smile and his spiteful answer. "Magic tricks, sir? Perhaps a rabbit from my hat should do." He let out a little chuckle and then shook his head. "Not in the least, Mr. Baskerville. But I trust you will tell me everything shall we arrive to our destination."

That seemed to be the kind of answer the man was expecting from him, because just as easily he could continue asking he stopped and smiled gallantly at him. The rest of the travel neither of them talked, but they were comfortable with just that.

When the sound of steel against pavement stopped, they both stood from their respective seats and exited the cab. Jack never knew when they reached the Baskerville's courtyard, but nonetheless here they were. Just as they were adjusting to the sensation of the floor someone came and made a bow.

"Welcome back, Master. I assume your travel was pleasant?" The man, a raven haired handsome aristocrat stared at Jack, but didn't ask about his whereabouts. Jack winked at him, and was pleased when he was rewarded with his pale cheeks blushing lightly.

"It indeed was. A little troublesome, that people from Leveau, but who am I to interfere with their lifestyle" they started to enter the mansion, and as he put a feet inside the mansion he gave off his coat to his servant, who was awaiting for him to continue speaking. "I also brought you a souvenir from my travel, I honestly hope you get along."

Jack let out a little chuckle. "People treat me like shit and you treat me like a possession. Should I feel offended or flattered?" Of course the 'apprentice' of this person seemed scandalized by his words but didn't dare to speak his mind, for the words his Master had said intrigued him greatly.

"Ah… master?" he spoke, instead. The white-haired lord shrugged.

"He is the one, Oswald. _Covered in gold and green that sometimes is ruby. He shall arrive at his twentieth birthday to relish him from the daemons behind him_."

"Shall I what?" Jack blinked several times. "Can we breathe for a second? I think there is a mistake here. What are you both talking about?"

Oswald glared at him. The other man just kept on smiling and pointed at his earing.

"Of course I'll tell you, I am bound to my word. But can you, please, tell me where did you get such pendant that hangs from your earlobe?"

Even if his lips were trembling, his eyes were as calm as they had all evening. He wasn't truly scared, and he knew neither of them would truly believe him (or perhaps this Oswald man would, but not his Master).

"Just like you did with myself: I found it on the street."

No, he wasn't afraid. Still, the smile that the lord offered him made no amend to his beating heart.

"Well, well. Oswald, I shall present you both. This is Oswald, my apprentice, as you guessed. Oswald, this is Jack. Only Jack."

"The pleasure is mine." They said in unison, neither of them truly meaning it.

.

Eins Ende.

.


End file.
